Stop Valhalla

Pepa. Cool.

This week, Augustus Hill will be discussing Vikings, those bawdy Norsemen who wore hats with pointy horns on them and wreaked havoc from England to Russia. Hill, playing with a sword, has donned a hat with pointy horns on it to demonstrate. Except that the Vikings never wore those pointy-horned hats, says Hill. Um, they probably weren't black with dreads either, dude. And, continues Hill, since they had very limited farming space, they only pillaged to survive. Oh, so survival-driven pillaging is okay. But what about the "rape" part?

Flashback to Alvarez telling the large-featured kid to kill Guerra. Hey, I got my wish -- there's his ass, um, haul-assing toward Guerra, whose ass, along with the rest of him, is taking a shower. Double your pleasure, double your fun -- what could be better than two asses in one? Unfortunately, I think the only penetration will be blade-related. So this kid -- oh, his name's Jaime -- presses a shank against Guerra's back and tells him that death will be kindly stopping for him right about now, that the end is nigh, and that's just how it is. Guerra asks Jaime to let him turn around and take it like a man (I think he's slightly confused there), and Jaime, since he's young and dumb, falls for Guerra's request. Guerra spins and pushes Jaime, who falls on his back, as we get a full frontal shot of Guerra. Wow, it's wish fulfillment run amok. Jaime meets his maker as Guerra smashes his head repeatedly into the tile wall.

Alvarez, gracing the door of Mukada's office, requests a confession. Mukada tells him to come back on Saturday afternoon, but Alvarez really wants to confess now. Mukada relents and sits at his desk; Alvarez, seated opposite, talks about how he's been all over the place since getting out of solitary, just trying to prove that he's not a pussy. "I know what you mean," says Mukada. Why? Because Mukada has also been trying to prove that he's not a pussy? Or just that he is one (bing bing bing -- that's the winning answer! Do I get the washer/dryer?)? Mukada says he should have died in that bus accident (hey -- he said it, not me), and that Cloutier's missing, which he thinks "is supposed to mean something," but he "can't figure out what that something is." Well, don't worry, Father. Don't tax your pretty little head; anyone with a first-grade education has known exactly what "it" means for months now, so just pick up the phone and we'll explain it to you. Alvarez asks Mukada to pray an extra-super-duper prayer for him; as Mukada looks confused, Alvarez reveals that someone died because of him. Dramatic music swells, since this is clearly the first time that Alvarez has been responsible for a death. "Jaime Velez?" asks Mukada. Alvarez says the corpse in question was innocent (he must have been really surprised to find himself in prison, then). Mukada tells Alvarez that although they've had their moments, he thinks that Alvarez has a good soul and will figure out a way to right the wrong. And if he doesn't? "Then you really are a pussy," says Mukada, reminding me of countless childhood confessions and priestly words of wisdom.

An attractive woman explains her program -- "Man's Best Friend" -- to McManus, who's reading something else and only pretending to listen. I was listening, however, and am pleased to report that Man's Best Friend employs prisoners to train seeing-eye dogs, since (it's PSA time again) there are lots of visually-impaired people and a decent pool of potential guide dogs, but not enough people to train them. It's been a smash. Smellie enters, pissed that McManus has started talking to this woman before she arrived. She goes for "icy," but misses the mark, landing somewhere near "dyspeptic." McManus looks like the doofus that he is. Smellie raises concerns, but PrettyDogLady addresses them: yes, the program has been a success, with a high percentage of dogs qualifying and an even higher percentage of prisoners displaying better attitudes; yes, the specific skills needed to train the dogs can be taught; no, the prisoners don't hurt the dogs, as they go from having nothing to nurturing a life. Yes, but do they have sex with them? This is Oz, PrettyDogLady; this is Oz. Smellie remains skeptical and grows increasingly breathy, saying she thinks starting small makes sense, as McManus picks at her until she finally snaps, "Fuck you, Tim," surprising PrettyDogLady, but not me, since I'm used to the fact that these two behave in a completely unprofessional manner that insults anyone with whom they are speaking, as well as themselves. Smellie wins when PrettyDogLady says that she prefers to start small, and then they both look at McManus, who probably starts and finishes small, as PrettyDogLady says she needs three volunteers.

McManus introduces the program to the inmates. Poet bitches about dogs in Oz, since he got bitten by one as a kid; Redding says he probably deserved to get bitten, and Hill muses that perhaps a dog will take his mind off his problems. Ryan thinks the "mutts are drug sniffers," but Alvarez and Penders decide to sign up despite Ryan's misgivings. Cyril asks Ryan if they can get a dog, but Ryan refuses. Because he's already got someone to follow him around, panting and eager.

Alvarez walks in for his interview with PrettyDogLady; he immediately starts playing with the requisite dog, so we know he'll get the job. PrettyDogLady expresses concern about Alvarez's record; he draws her attention to a guard he blinded (complete with flashback of horrific screaming, hollow eye sockets, and bloody flesh) and says that's why he needs to join the program. Because the hot color this season is atonement. Plus, says Alvarez, stroking his new friend, the dog already picked me, as the camera pans down to the dog lying on its side, right front paw raised, a look of absolute terror in its eyes, and you just know it's thinking, "If I can just endure this for a few more seconds, I'll get a cookie. I like cookies. Do I look fat in this leash? God, I hate my job."

Now on break, Brass heads over to Unit B to check out his old stomping grounds. Pepa, as a fellow C.O., tells Brass that she's got PMS (Pepa Minus Salt? Okay, I'm sorry. I just slapped myself) as Schillinger calls his name. The old coot's happy to see Brass's pale face, since there are too many black C.O.s for comfort. Brass wonders if Schillinger knows who cut him, but Schillinger was with Robson on work duty that day. Wasn't a white man, says Schillinger. That I know for sure. Then Martinez calls him over, and Brass, feeling all belle of the ball, walks toward his cell. Martinez asks if Brass drinks, and when Brass wonders if he wants to go "grab a couple of beers," Martinez chuckles, and suggests instead a "blood piss shit puke cocktail." Before Brass has time to consider how yummy that might be, he's wearing one, all over his face. Now that's beyond nasty. The father of Madonna's first child just threw an excreta smoothie all over Officer Dave Brass. That's got to mean something, but I can't quite figure out what it is. Perhaps I'll ask Mukada. Martinez is dragged away while Brass screams and wipes vigorously at his face but, miraculously, doesn't puke.

In the infirmary, Dr. Nathan asks a clean but glum Brass how he's doing. Fine, he lies. She tells him he can go, but that he needs to come back in a week for blood work, as they need to check for all the bad stuff like hepatitis, HIV, pinworms. Then, while worrying about overstepping her bounds, she advises him to tell any sexual partners about the incident. Brass, realizing that tales of a shit shower are not likely to act as an aphrodisiac, snaps that Nathan is indeed sticking her nose where it doesn't belong. Actually, dickhead, it's exactly what she should be saying as a doctor.

Now it's time for her to deal with the other side of this little incident -- she enters Martinez's cell to examine him. He's all bloody and looks like he got beaten up pretty badly. I don't speak Spanish, so I have no idea what they're saying. Martinez reaches up and touches her face, and she reverts to English to tell him to stop. Then she tells the guard that Martinez should be in the hospital, but the guard won't budge without permission from Leo, so she sends him off to get it. Back to Martinez, who reaches for her face again as Nathan begins having rape flashbacks. She tells him to stop once more, but he reaches for her breast, and she flies off the handle and starts pummeling him. And pummeling him. And shouting that she told him to stop.

In Sister Pete's office, Nathan talks about beating Martinez and losing control. Pete thinks that she was actually in control -- finally asserting herself in the situation and taking back the control that she lost when she was raped. Nathan asks if Pete thinks she's antagonizing prisoners on purpose; Pete says no, but that she wants Nathan to answer a question she asked when she first returned to Oz after the rape. Why? Why, after being beaten and violated, did she choose to return to a place full of vicious men? Nathan doesn't know. Of course not. Could we gather all the clueless staffers in a room and have a quick debriefing session so they can stop wondering what's staring them in the face? Pollyanna Pete believes that if they work on this issue and find out what's going on, Nathan can begin to heal.

A statue of a human wearing a massive doughnut on its head can mean only one thing: Viking interlude. Hill recounts the Viking myth of human origin; in addition to souls and whatnot, the great god Odin gave them a place to live called Midgard, which was created from a giant's eyebrows. "Sounds almost true, don't it," muses Hill, "all of us living on the edge of an eyebrow." Nope, not remotely, but thanks for trying.

"Homosexuality," intones Said, "is an abomination against God." Schillinger and Sister Pete nod vigorously in agreement (since he just rapes and she just pimps, they don't really support man-love, I suppose), while Beecher sits stone-faced, likely contemplating the fineness of Keller. Yes, it's time for Sharing With Mortal Enemies. Today's topic? In da butt. Said points out that Schillinger has enjoyed back-door entry with Beecher (a sweeping hand motion indicates the specimen), Cyril O'Reily, and perhaps countless others (a shattered Italian springs to mind), but Schillinger asserts that he's never touched anyone. This sends Beecher into a screaming rage, for hell hath no fury like a homo spurned; he lunges for Schillinger and demands that he proclaim their love and the moments of passion they enjoyed. Pete jumps up, hand over mouth, as one of the hacks pries Beecher away from Schillinger, who leaves the room with a shrug and a smile. And immediately takes his mail cart on a search for his other buttboy, Peter Schibetta, whom he finds sitting in an empty office. Schibetta's made a miraculous and speedy recovery -- looks like he can use his ass for sitting and he appears compos mentos -- and is apparently waiting to see a shrink. Schillinger encourages his talking through a traumatic experience (like seeing Schillinger naked), but warns Schibetta not to get too specific about details, as that could lead to more trouble. Ever the joker, Schillinger advises Schibetta to "keep [his] sunny side up." Hee.